


Offering and Acceptance  Part 2

by fragrantwoods



Category: Deadwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods





	Offering and Acceptance  Part 2

_**Offering and Acceptance Part 2**_  


 **Offering and Acceptance Part 2  
**

  


 **  
**

  
Alma adjusted her bodice as she watched him put the key back on his desk. Once…no, twice, when in distress, she had found sanctuary in this place. Trixie could scoff all she liked, but this man had known when to send for her child, when to send for her former lover, and how to give her the courage to walk back into danger. His ability to read others was uncanny.

It was curious,  how he could be so astute in picking up on her needs, and then seem to deliberately juke in another direction. It was almost as if he recognized her desire to have control over this, but knew that she doubted her ability. The idea that he might be deliberately throwing challenges into something that could have been mundane and perfunctory intrigued her.

His stillness seemed another challenge now. He stood stolid, waiting. From her own experience, and from what she had seen from hidden corners of her childhood home, illicit lovers fell upon each other with enormous passion as soon as they were behind closed doors. His patience was confounding.

She saw his eyes flick towards the bedroom then back to her, and realized he was expecting her to be the agent of the beginning of this encounter. She glanced at the clock; time to leap, or admit this had been a poorly thought-out mistake. She took a deep breath, felt like she was riding up to a first jump.

“School’s not out for another three hours, and I made arrangements at the bank to be absent,” she said as she walked into his bedroom.

 _Soundin’ more sure of herself,_ he thought, as he put up the papers he had been working on.

She turned, gathered herself again.

“Al.”

He looked up, surprised at the use of his first name. She was standing by his bed.

“Bring the bottle.” She nodded towards the whiskey on his desk.

He thought she was trying hard to look casual, but an anxious half-smile was breaking through.

He cocked his eyebrow and smiled as he gathered the bottle and glasses. _Knowin’ she’s out of her league, and havin’ the guts to stay in the game…she’s got sand, for all that she’s got her loopy side._

His earlier preparations had readied him to replay a role from his youth, one that he thought he could recreate for her benefit. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy himself, but she was the one in need here. Like Dan said, he had a saloonful of whores to choose from at any time. Alma, on the other hand, had no safe choices for distraction and relief. He didn’t know why some people felt like they had to ascribe some deeper meaning to a physical tryst, but he hoped she’d get something of what she was looking for.

  


In his head, he ran through some of his tactics learned from his time spent helping a Chicago doctor treat women for ‘hysteria”, performing “pelvic massage” until “healing paroxysms” were brought about. A few of the bolder women had offered extra money for him to act like their lover before he diddled them until they came.

  


  
Most paid him with their husbands’ money, freely given by the men to secure treatment that rendered their wives serene and calm-natured for a couple of weeks. That had been a lucrative and interesting season until the doctor’s right arm recovered from his strain injuries. 

  


   
 _Kiss cheek, ear, neck, lips, then cup breast, fondle, whisper lies about their beauty_ …the old steps were coming back to mind. He walked into the dim room, setting the requested bottle on the dresser. The rhythms of purchased seduction guided his movements as he filled two shot glasses without looking at them, keeping his eyes on her. 

  


  
She was standing against the bed, eyes half-closed, lips parted, throwing out every signal she knew of that she was ready to be passionately swept up in his arms…then she saw something change in his look.

  


  
“What are you doing?” 

  


  
It looked like a mask had dropped in front of him, pleasant enough but not real, movements careful, almost rehearsed. 

  


  
He stopped moving towards her and leaned up against the bed, mildly annoyed she’d seen through him so quickly. _Maybe just try the truth, see what happened. Not like there was any money at stake._  


  


  
 _  
_“Alma, I don’t have much, ah, experience in this kind of thing.”

  


  
Her back stiffened at this. “Al, you live in a _whorehouse_.”

  


  
He rubbed his neck and hunted for the right words. 

  


  
“Yeah… If you were a whore workin’ for me, we’d be done by now. But you’re a respectable type of woman, and one that hasn’t paid me for any particular services, and I’ve not paid for any services from you…truth be told, I’m a bit…cherry in this situation.”

  


  
 _Well, wasn’t this just turning into a fine disaster?_  


  


  
He just stood there, looking willing and still interested, even if uncomfortable …she thought he might actually be telling the truth. She made up her mind. She was not leaving this room in the same state in which she entered it. Another plunge into unfamiliar territory.

  


  
“Al, for heaven’s sake, just…get undressed and lie down on the bed.”

  


  
Her words surprised both of them. She turned and started unbuttoning her blouse. _This was becoming as clinical as a visit from Dr. Cochran,_ she thought. Then she got the scent of musk and oranges again, and her shoulders began unstiffening. She breathed deeply, drawing the scent into her, and felt a little more ease. She steadied, thinking she… _they_ …might have some success after all.

  


  
She stopped at her chemise, and turned, hesitant and feeling the need for some sign of approval. Al was lying on the high, sturdy bed, expectant, curious look on his face. Hands folded over his stomach, still wearing his gray tattered long johns. She thought of lifelong memories and inwardly shuddered. 

  


  
“Is that…do you have any…less worn underclothes?”

  


  
He looked somewhat offended.

  


  
” I have new duds in my dresser, and what’s that to you? I wasn’t exactly expecting company when I got up this morning.” 

  


  
He was chagrined at having taken such care with his grooming and not thinking about his underclothes. It had been years since he had been in an environment where it mattered what one wore while fucking. _They can’t be too bad,_ he thought. _She’s still here and half-naked._  


  


  
 _  
_Alma felt almost ready to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, then looked closely at his face. As rough a man as this, she still sensed that he would not take laughter well. She thought about how she felt when made to look foolish, and a wave of empathy went through her.

  


  
And somewhere behind her hurt and need, she found a dark place that wondered if a woman who could make the cutthroat Al Swearengen discomfited…might have a strong and dangerous side to her as well. An interesting side, well worth exploring. 

  


  
She came to the bed, her chemise reaching her thighs. She downed the poured shot of whiskey by the bed, feeling its heat as she gathered herself for a higher reckless jump.

  


  
Balancing with a knee against the mattress, she gracefully swung her leg over him until she was sitting over his lap, hard flesh beneath her.

  


  
“Move, please. I feel off-balance."  She unconsciously pressed her inner knee and thigh into his hip, the way she would have guided a horse.

  


  
Steadying her with one hand, he shifted to his left so both her knees were firmly on the bed.

He continued to wait, wondering at her odd, cool tone.

  


  
She ran a finger around the ragged cuff of his underwear. Thought about that singular feeling when fully committed to a jump…

  


  
“May I have a knife, please?”

  


  
His eyes widened.

  


  
 _The fuck?  
_  
 

  


  



End file.
